Saturday, June 21, 2003
Gravity of the situation |9:58 AM| I'm going to leave th post beneath this one as a testament to forcing yourself to write something when you can't think of anything else to do.
I hope I'm not the only one who does this, but when I'm lying in bed (floor, for the time being) and I start to drift off, I take note of what's around me. Now, once I've "reached out with my perceptions" I start to think of unusual situations. Such as, what if the room were to suddenly shift, so that the wall to my left was now "down"? Through gravity, or large mechanical turning devices, I was now suddenly on the wall. Would I be able to react in time to both land without injury, as well as avoid all the falling crap?
I find that I position my legs a little differently at that point. Not in preperation of say, a drug crazed lunatic, or a storm, but of gravity fucking with me
Maybe this is part of the reason my sleep schedule is so messed up. As a note on a previous post, it turns out that Happy is a friend of the roommate's boyfriend, and not some random drug addict. He's still classified as an asshole for showing up at a random time looking for drugs, as my roommate says.
I could use a muse. The muses that come to mind immediately are The Shrike in "Hyperion" and a character in a Sandman comic. This makes me think I'm far more dorky than I might currently portray myself. Either way, I don't have a 9 foot tall killing machine or a greek mythological figure on hand, so I'll take a look around. I think I've had muses before, but I could be wrong. That brings me to another point, in a post that I keep meaning to write, about past mistakes and how they affect my present mindset.
Portalstar doesn't count as my muse. She's wonderful, and nice, and inspirational in certain ways, but most of our humor together is of the sort "you had to be there". Not to say Portal isn't funny, I wouldn't be dating her if she wasn't, but I can't usually bring what we talk about into written form. The unusual times I can, you, the reader, have already seen it.
General Tsao's Chicken. Goddamn, I love the internet. Here's the recipe I'm whipping up tonight, with any luck.
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Nightly interrogation |4:05 AM| I'm sure glad it's Saturday morning. I had to call in sick yesterday due to whatever the hell is wrong with me. Somehow I managed to wake up at 7 and call my boss to let him know.
That's about the last thing I fully remember. I think I've been mostly asleep for about 20 hours or so. My arm didn't work when I woke up. Damn sleeping without a bed.
Portal has taken to asking me questions while I'm half or completely asleep. As I cannot remember the questions or the answers, this troubles me greatly. I'm very interested in what is being said, however.
Something funny...something funny... a spider just crawled on my foot. That's pretty funny.
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Thursday, June 19, 2003
Shotgun related cheer |9:24 PM| Someone had just knocked "Shave and a haircut" on my front door. This put me on edge, because the only people I knew who did that were assholes, and that guy a few years ago imitating cable repairman so he could rob houses. I pulled myself off the patch of floor that was acting as my bed, and stumbled over to the door. It is at this point I realized that I needed one of those door chains.
Opening the door, I was met with a head-shaved, heavily arm tattoed man, asking for my roommate.
"Sure. You'll have to excuse me if I lock the door" I responded.
I went upstairs, and found my roommate's room empty. Going back, to the guy, who's name was "Happy" I let him know she was gone, probably at work.
"Nah, man, I think she went over to [boyfriend's name]"
This ID'd him as a friend of the boyfriend. But then he was asking for "V's" which took me a second to recognize as "Valium". My roommate's boyfriend briefly (3 days) dealt, and so that's where this guy must have gotten the idea.
I told him no, and he was on his way. I may still have to move "Mr. Flavor Injector Shotgun" up above "bed" on the shopping list.
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|9:20 PM| Girl marries Dog in India
Cecil: No need to divorce the dog!
Trillian: That dog ought to have shared custody of any offspring, and be entitled to alimony.
Cecil: But should also be required to pay child support.
Trillian: In what? Milk bones?
Cecil: He could work for the India DEA.
Cecil: There are jobs a dog can get, should a dog need a job.
Trillian: I guess if the kids are half-schnauzer, milk bones might not be such a bad idea.
Trillian: Drug sniffing, circus tricks, starring opposite Tom Hanks.
Cecil: A real feel good kinda story.
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Wednesday, June 18, 2003
Tiny buckets of joy |12:48 AM| How's this for a turn of a events? Portal and I were incredibly close to being finished tuning the violin. Its poorly made pegs were held in by pressure against the wood of the frame. This meant you had to pull them out, tune, then jam them back in very hard, making precise tuning a bitch and a half. Right as I was making the last fine adjustments to the last string, the cheap plywood bridge stapped in two and flew across the room, nearly jabbing out my eye on the way. Not only was 40 minutes of difficult tuning down the toilet, but now the insturment requires repair.
PortalStar superglued the bridge components back together, but I don't know how well it's going to hold up when we put it back on. At least I learned a little about playing the flute, and managed to produce sounds that were nearly musical.
Things for which Portalstar Punched me:
1.She mentioned the tragic story of a girl raised by two mentally retarded women here in Austin. The girl had grown up in a closet, and apparently spoke to rats. At least, that was the gist of it I got from Portal, she apparently concentrated on the rat side of things too much. When portal said that she couldn't remember the girl's name, I helpfully suggested it might be
"*chittering noise...Eeek!". Strength of punch: medium. Degree of anger: Medium->high. I was also punched for suggesting I hire the rat girl to train an army of loyal rat soldiers to do my bidding.
2. I was explaing the role of royal jelly in the development of bee larvae. Portal said that she used royal jelly under her eyes, as it is apparently good for the skin. When the subject of how one goes about aquiring enough royal jelly to fill even a small container, I began to sing "The world owes me a living" while mimicing the act of milking a tiny udder. I went on to describe the large bee farms someone must keep, and how the buckets are very tiny. "Milking BEEEEEES"
Strength of punch: very low.
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Monday, June 16, 2003
This is the worlds shittiest violin player, playing just for my grandma |3:20 PM| Portal owns a violin, bought through mail order. It is, according to her, not the best violin in the world. Her parents didn't pay for classes, and then wondered why she didn't improve, or stick with it. She has told me not to belittle the violin in public, as she's afraid it might upset her parents.
As you may or may not recall, reader person, I love the violin. I may have mentioned on this blog about how after (or even before) piano lessons as a kid, I would sneak around the building in order to listen to the other kids play the violin. I was told during high school by the music teacher that she would be unable to teach a trumpet player the violin. I still haven't the slightest idea why. At the time this was quite a roadblock, as neither I nor my parents had the cash to pay for paying for lessons for a musical instrument. Especially since I sucked ass at school at the time.
What this comes down to is I finally have access to a violin without renting or purchasing it, and I have free time during the week. The debate has become to take guitar or violin lessons. I'm not going to pay money to learn the blasted didjeridu if I can possibly avoid it. It's a plastic tube for crying out loud. Back to the subject at hand, violin, or guitar? Also, diligent readers of this blog will make side bets of "How long will he remain interested in this current pursuit?". If my father hadn't taken his guitar back I might still be building calluses.
More sad news. My Grandmother (the non dead one) is in the hospital. She's already had her gall bladder removed in the last 3 days. I didn't even think humans still had a gall bladder that was removable, but since I've also heard of "Gall stones" it's clear I just never gave gall bladders much thought. Gall in general is something I only considered while reading Hamlet, and wondering about the livers of pigeons.
My grandmother is at this point, quite demented. To the point that my father recovered a $6000 check just by cleaning the living room of her house, and that she has stopped listening to any legal advice from the people she pays for such information. This means that her estate, as it stands, is going to vanish almost entirely into the coffers of the U.S. Government upon her death, which could be quite soon.
I feel awfully sorry for my father, he had to drive to Murray, Kentucky to clean up the affairs of his now dying mother. I see it as the inevitable, especially with her decline over the past few years. I'm sure it certainly isn't like that for my dad. This is one of those few times I'm just not sure how my dad feels. He's probably losing himself in the tasks at hand, the cleaning of the house, the anger of dealing with finances, the paper associated with removing his mother's control over her own life... He's quiet when things like this are occurring. I wonder at what point he taught me to lose myself in the work of foul moments, that the responsbilities of the mundane tasks were a kind of freedom, as they were a logical response to events with no other possible "reasonable" reaction.
Back to comedy sooner or later, I'm sure. Lizards, Grandmothers, bad music. Give me a bit of time here, folks.
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I am moving the post below this one |12:48 PM| Stuff Stuff Stuff
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Gravity of the situation |9:58 AM| I'm going to leave th post beneath this one as a testament to forcing yourself to write something when you can't think of anything else to do.
I hope I'm not the only one who does this, but when I'm lying in bed (floor, for the time being) and I start to drift off, I take note of what's around me. Now, once I've "reached out with my perceptions" I start to think of unusual situations. Such as, what if the room were to suddenly shift, so that the wall to my left was now "down"? Through gravity, or large mechanical turning devices, I was now suddenly on the wall. Would I be able to react in time to both land without injury, as well as avoid all the falling crap?
I find that I position my legs a little differently at that point. Not in preperation of say, a drug crazed lunatic, or a storm, but of gravity fucking with me
Maybe this is part of the reason my sleep schedule is so messed up. As a note on a previous post, it turns out that Happy is a friend of the roommate's boyfriend, and not some random drug addict. He's still classified as an asshole for showing up at a random time looking for drugs, as my roommate says.
I could use a muse. The muses that come to mind immediately are The Shrike in "Hyperion" and a character in a Sandman comic. This makes me think I'm far more dorky than I might currently portray myself. Either way, I don't have a 9 foot tall killing machine or a greek mythological figure on hand, so I'll take a look around. I think I've had muses before, but I could be wrong. That brings me to another point, in a post that I keep meaning to write, about past mistakes and how they affect my present mindset.
Portalstar doesn't count as my muse. She's wonderful, and nice, and inspirational in certain ways, but most of our humor together is of the sort "you had to be there". Not to say Portal isn't funny, I wouldn't be dating her if she wasn't, but I can't usually bring what we talk about into written form. The unusual times I can, you, the reader, have already seen it.
General Tsao's Chicken. Goddamn, I love the internet. Here's the recipe I'm whipping up tonight, with any luck.
(0) comments
Nightly interrogation |4:05 AM| I'm sure glad it's Saturday morning. I had to call in sick yesterday due to whatever the hell is wrong with me. Somehow I managed to wake up at 7 and call my boss to let him know.
That's about the last thing I fully remember. I think I've been mostly asleep for about 20 hours or so. My arm didn't work when I woke up. Damn sleeping without a bed.
Portal has taken to asking me questions while I'm half or completely asleep. As I cannot remember the questions or the answers, this troubles me greatly. I'm very interested in what is being said, however.
Something funny...something funny... a spider just crawled on my foot. That's pretty funny.
(0) comments
Thursday, June 19, 2003
Shotgun related cheer |9:24 PM| Someone had just knocked "Shave and a haircut" on my front door. This put me on edge, because the only people I knew who did that were assholes, and that guy a few years ago imitating cable repairman so he could rob houses. I pulled myself off the patch of floor that was acting as my bed, and stumbled over to the door. It is at this point I realized that I needed one of those door chains.
Opening the door, I was met with a head-shaved, heavily arm tattoed man, asking for my roommate.
"Sure. You'll have to excuse me if I lock the door" I responded.
I went upstairs, and found my roommate's room empty. Going back, to the guy, who's name was "Happy" I let him know she was gone, probably at work.
"Nah, man, I think she went over to [boyfriend's name]"
This ID'd him as a friend of the boyfriend. But then he was asking for "V's" which took me a second to recognize as "Valium". My roommate's boyfriend briefly (3 days) dealt, and so that's where this guy must have gotten the idea.
I told him no, and he was on his way. I may still have to move "Mr. Flavor Injector Shotgun" up above "bed" on the shopping list.
(0) comments
|9:20 PM| Girl marries Dog in India
Cecil: No need to divorce the dog!
Trillian: That dog ought to have shared custody of any offspring, and be entitled to alimony.
Cecil: But should also be required to pay child support.
Trillian: In what? Milk bones?
Cecil: He could work for the India DEA.
Cecil: There are jobs a dog can get, should a dog need a job.
Trillian: I guess if the kids are half-schnauzer, milk bones might not be such a bad idea.
Trillian: Drug sniffing, circus tricks, starring opposite Tom Hanks.
Cecil: A real feel good kinda story.
Labels: Trillian
(0) comments
Wednesday, June 18, 2003
Tiny buckets of joy |12:48 AM| How's this for a turn of a events? Portal and I were incredibly close to being finished tuning the violin. Its poorly made pegs were held in by pressure against the wood of the frame. This meant you had to pull them out, tune, then jam them back in very hard, making precise tuning a bitch and a half. Right as I was making the last fine adjustments to the last string, the cheap plywood bridge stapped in two and flew across the room, nearly jabbing out my eye on the way. Not only was 40 minutes of difficult tuning down the toilet, but now the insturment requires repair.
PortalStar superglued the bridge components back together, but I don't know how well it's going to hold up when we put it back on. At least I learned a little about playing the flute, and managed to produce sounds that were nearly musical.
Things for which Portalstar Punched me:
1.She mentioned the tragic story of a girl raised by two mentally retarded women here in Austin. The girl had grown up in a closet, and apparently spoke to rats. At least, that was the gist of it I got from Portal, she apparently concentrated on the rat side of things too much. When portal said that she couldn't remember the girl's name, I helpfully suggested it might be
"*chittering noise...Eeek!". Strength of punch: medium. Degree of anger: Medium->high. I was also punched for suggesting I hire the rat girl to train an army of loyal rat soldiers to do my bidding.
2. I was explaing the role of royal jelly in the development of bee larvae. Portal said that she used royal jelly under her eyes, as it is apparently good for the skin. When the subject of how one goes about aquiring enough royal jelly to fill even a small container, I began to sing "The world owes me a living" while mimicing the act of milking a tiny udder. I went on to describe the large bee farms someone must keep, and how the buckets are very tiny. "Milking BEEEEEES"
Strength of punch: very low.
Labels: Mariko
(0) comments
Monday, June 16, 2003
This is the worlds shittiest violin player, playing just for my grandma |3:20 PM| Portal owns a violin, bought through mail order. It is, according to her, not the best violin in the world. Her parents didn't pay for classes, and then wondered why she didn't improve, or stick with it. She has told me not to belittle the violin in public, as she's afraid it might upset her parents.
As you may or may not recall, reader person, I love the violin. I may have mentioned on this blog about how after (or even before) piano lessons as a kid, I would sneak around the building in order to listen to the other kids play the violin. I was told during high school by the music teacher that she would be unable to teach a trumpet player the violin. I still haven't the slightest idea why. At the time this was quite a roadblock, as neither I nor my parents had the cash to pay for paying for lessons for a musical instrument. Especially since I sucked ass at school at the time.
What this comes down to is I finally have access to a violin without renting or purchasing it, and I have free time during the week. The debate has become to take guitar or violin lessons. I'm not going to pay money to learn the blasted didjeridu if I can possibly avoid it. It's a plastic tube for crying out loud. Back to the subject at hand, violin, or guitar? Also, diligent readers of this blog will make side bets of "How long will he remain interested in this current pursuit?". If my father hadn't taken his guitar back I might still be building calluses.
More sad news. My Grandmother (the non dead one) is in the hospital. She's already had her gall bladder removed in the last 3 days. I didn't even think humans still had a gall bladder that was removable, but since I've also heard of "Gall stones" it's clear I just never gave gall bladders much thought. Gall in general is something I only considered while reading Hamlet, and wondering about the livers of pigeons.
My grandmother is at this point, quite demented. To the point that my father recovered a $6000 check just by cleaning the living room of her house, and that she has stopped listening to any legal advice from the people she pays for such information. This means that her estate, as it stands, is going to vanish almost entirely into the coffers of the U.S. Government upon her death, which could be quite soon.
I feel awfully sorry for my father, he had to drive to Murray, Kentucky to clean up the affairs of his now dying mother. I see it as the inevitable, especially with her decline over the past few years. I'm sure it certainly isn't like that for my dad. This is one of those few times I'm just not sure how my dad feels. He's probably losing himself in the tasks at hand, the cleaning of the house, the anger of dealing with finances, the paper associated with removing his mother's control over her own life... He's quiet when things like this are occurring. I wonder at what point he taught me to lose myself in the work of foul moments, that the responsbilities of the mundane tasks were a kind of freedom, as they were a logical response to events with no other possible "reasonable" reaction.
Back to comedy sooner or later, I'm sure. Lizards, Grandmothers, bad music. Give me a bit of time here, folks.
(0) comments
I am moving the post below this one |12:48 PM| Stuff Stuff Stuff
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